A city of this size puts things in perspective. I will never think of Sydney in the same way again. As much as it was "the big smoke" for me, growing up in my town of 8000 professional drinkers and retired sporting heroes in country New South Wales, most of Sydney is characterised by suburbs and front lawns full of bindies and runners of kikuyu grass. To beat the heat of Summer we used to strip down to our cossies and dash through the garden sprinkler while clutching flavoured ice blocks, as did our city-based cousins.
Having a lawn in Shanghai probably means you are squatting in a heritage listed property. Europeans and Americans moved into Shanghai en masse around the turn of last century in the spirit of the same opportunism which had driven them to Asia and Africa throughout the previous 3 or 4 centuries. They took the best land and set up their trading empires, building vast mansions and enormous banks down by the Huangpu River.
There's a lot of activity in Shanghai. I got a feel for this the afternoon I rolled into town. Having learnt my lesson that it was prudent to secure an ongoing ticket immediately upon arriving in a new location, I emerged from the platform and set out to look for the "soft sleeper ticket office." Being the only caucasian and the only person with a backpack made me stand out like an original song on the pop charts. As did the fact that I was obviously unsure of where I was. I did see other caucasians later but they were wearing suits and had their eyes firmly focused on the horizon as they jostled through the crowds. Businessmen: it's all about outcomes.
A punter standing around having a post-lunch cigarette and spit with his mates saw this confusion and asked me where I was going. It was a normal enough question. "Xian," I said. He launched into action and made me a deal without me even knowing it. Seconds after it sank in that he was about to sell me a bus ticket to Xian for 600 RMB. I used the bustling crowd to lose him, put on my black beanie and did some urgent window shopping at Chinese tour booking office. When it was safe to move on, I continued up the street and saw him leading a group of confused travellers in the opposite direction.
It's probably a lucrative business, scamming confused newcomers. Even if 20 reject your deal outright and only 1 bites - and you mark everything up by a ludicrous amount - you're still breaking even wih the official competitors. It is said in the travel books how important "face" is in dealing with Asians and that you should never do anything that embarrasses them in public. This includes calling their bluff, so even if they suggest a price which is 8 times a reasonable amount, you should respond with "no that's too much, how about 1/16th of said amount?" I used this recommended approach for the first half of the trip but it felt fake. I felt I was betraying my Australian roots. By the time I reached Beijing I had reverted to the tried and true "you've gotta be joking mate." It felt great. I wish I'd taken my slouch hat.
I never found the soft sleeper ticket office, which was a shame because it sounded nice. I imagined plush velvet couches and waiters circulating with trays of hors d'eouvres. Instead I found the standard ticket office, which had become the home of about 2 million of those 27 million Shanghaiers I mentioned earlier. They were temporary residents trying to get tickets to their hometown for the Spring Festival. They moved in with their suitcases and cigarettes and mothers in law and stood around talking and eating sunflower seeds. Announcements blared the latest train to fill up and I suddenly thought of going to Kunming, 2 days away by train, but undoubtedly greener than these pastures. I found myself in a queue without quite being sure of how this even happened, and started rehearsing my Chinese. It came out with a pronounced stutter, but he understood me alright. "Meiyou," he said, twice, something I understood perfectly. It is the most favoured utterance of a Chinese ticket officer around Spring Festival, and sounds exactly like "mayo." I suddenly desired a chicko mayo sanger at Lake Alexandra punctuated by the popping of tennis balls on rackets at the nearby courts.
The English speaking window man informed me (I think) that there were no tickets available to Xian for the next 11 days. And none to Kunming within 6 days. Fine, looks like I was flying then. I reckoned that it was pointless to plan in too fine a detail your trip to China because things will change dramatically when you are on the ground. This is true of everywhere of course but I think China demands the flexibility of a gymnast whereas many other destinations probably only require a bit of yoga now and then before setting out. Are you with me?
I left and went to Subway, where the nametags of the sandwich artists read "oven" and "grill." Another customer spoke to me in perfect American English (I know what you're thinking and no that's not an oxymoron so don't even try and pull me up on that one - a lot of them are quite clever these days) and told me about her life as a children's talent scout in Shanghai. Clearly I wasn't in Suzhou anymore. She wore a little French beret and had crooked teeth like mine, if not so yellow. She finished up and wished me a good day and pleasant time in Shanghai and left. I let her go, then spent the rest of my time in Shanghai wishing I had made myself pretend to be more attracted to her. Are you with me?
Down at the hostel, a Chinese guy interrupted while I was checking in and the receptionist went and served him before me and I made up my mind that I didn't like the place. That perception didn't change over the 3 days I stayed there. Not only was the receptionist a complete and total dickhead but there were 2 guys dying in my dorm room, the elevator was broken, the drinks were 10 times as expensive as in Qingdao and my washing didn't dry in the 3 days I was there. I resolved to spent as much time out of the hostel as I could, threw down my bags and headed for the Bund.
The vista which welcomed me down at the Huangpu River: no less awesome because of the fogginess which obscured the tops of the buildings at Liujiazui. This area has become one of a few symbols of the economic boom China has witnessed over the last decade. It is said, that 10 years ago, this area was just rice paddies. Shanghai is the most "western" of Chinese cities. The entrepreneurial spirit of its people was downright irritating at times.
The next day I headed for the French concession, which was total bollocks. There's an area that's been rebuilt according to fulfill "standard European ambience," and which is full of shops selling designer label clothing which was truly a waste of time. Lonely Planet directed me to a cafe that doesn't exist, then the Sun Yatsen house, then the site of the founding of the Chinese Communist Party, both of which were full of overzealous security guards watching me as if I were trying to bring down their stupid government. Perhaps they thought epaulettes impressed me? I actually find them to be really camp. All I wanted was something decent to look at and a good chicken and mayonnaise sandwich.
But things became interesting later that night when I went into a Muslim-run restaurant for some of my favourite noodles. The Muslim part is incidental and not important to the story at all. I just want you to know how cosmopolitan and accepting of other cultures I am. A group of 3 Chinese in their early 20s watched me with curiosity, then moved to the seats opposite me once the existing customer had cleared out. We enjoyed some conversation, enough to break the ice of international friendship, along with the beer they plied me with. They then ordered liberally from the menu and invited me to join them. Then when we'd finished they paid for everything including the noodles I'd ordered to begin with. The negative thing about it however was in the hostile attitudes they showed towards the Koreans in the restaurant. I felt sorry for the weird and insular Koreans right then. Yes they are odd, group-oriented and socially backward, hard to befriend, suspicious of change, and utterly hopeless with English but I don't see why that should resulting in anyone actually disliking them. It would be far worse if they travelled to everyone corner of our beautiful world with a striking contempt for its diversity, or without a clue as to how things develop historically. Or, if they had the stated objective and the power to take as much as they could without consideration for others.
Tomorrow: a walking tour of the Bund and acrobats!
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